Feariel
by kasura
Summary: Feanor's adventure continuing on after his reembodiment....humor..chapter 3 up
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: AU, silliness  
  
Feariel  
  
Chapter 1: Trouble in Mandos  
  
Namo sighed a thousandth times. His stress level shot through the roof of Mandos again; day after day he desperately needed his wife's healing massage with all its caveats. He thought he signed up for the easiest job in cosmos when Eru kicked them out of his shiny mansion, until a certain troublemaker came unwillingly. It's all Manwe's fault. He told him to let the Noldor scamper off, but no, Manwe had to add the extra Curse.  
  
The said troublemaker was beating the crap out of his brother, making a ruckus in a hall that is known for contemplative silence. No matter how much he had threatened, cajoled, bribed, pleaded.for 7000 years, the Elf simply refused to budge. He's set in his one-man vendetta against Namo, and his joy in death is to make Namo miserable.  
  
Namo stomped his feet angrily. He had enough of this insufferable Elf! Let Manwe and the gang deal with this loon. After all, Namo had to sweep glass pieces, shady swords, fallen wisps and whiny fea off his floor every day while Manwe played with his blondie pet.  
  
Namo called in a high pitched voice, 'Oh Feanor, come here you pesky Kinslayer' Swiftly, Feanor's shade slammed right into his center, making him reeled in pain and screamed like a sissy. "Damn you.' Namo hissed, holding his stomach, Feanor grinned.  
  
Namo used his formal voice while crouching "You have loitered in my hall for too long, it's time for you to leave.'  
  
Feanor's brows rose suspiciously. "Is this a cheap trick to fool me?" he demanded. "I remembered 7000+ years ago you gleefully enlightened me I am sentenced eternally to this dump."  
  
"I regret my mistake" Namo snarled. "now GET OUT!" a gray mist swirled up, enveloping Feanor's shade, sucking him into a shady portal. For the first time in 7000 years, Namo smiled in his halls, and not a regular smile, but a wicked grin. He had added something extra in the mist. It's payback time.  
  
Valinor trembled.  
  
Feanor opened his eyes, although he shut them quickly after. The sunlight pained him. He could feel the ground beneath him, beneath his body, for the first time in ages. The sweet smelling grasses, the chirping of birds, and the buzzing of dragonflies overwhelmed his senses. For a long time he simply lay unmoving, devoid of energy to explore the world once again. When his mind focused, he willed his body to sit up, his hands to push his body up, and his legs to carry his body up.  
  
Feanor felt a little different with his new body, like he's missing something, and gaining something. But he attributed this oddness to his inexperience with re-embodiment, thought he merely needed time adjustment to his hroa. He treaded to the nearby stream to make sure, just in case Namo botched after his 2,000,000 cases. What are the odds?  
  
The Spirit of Fire shrieked when his saw his reflection in the water. He face is beautiful like his first hroa, but softer. His luxuriant raven locks shimmered under the golden sunlight. Beautiful bright gray eyes framed with thick jet black lashes, pale translucent skin, and sensual red lips, all do justice to the songs lauding Feanor's blessing of greatest beauty in body and mind in all Noldor. No, his face looks familiar, but as he eyes traveled down to his body, he saw two rounded flesh hanging off his suppose flat chest. Trembling, his hand touched his crouch, there's NOTHING there!  
  
"Curse you Namo!!! You son of a diseased troll!!! You stupid wart can't do your job right..."the obscenity went on for hours and hours, but it's clear that Feanor is now an ELF MAIDEN instead of an ELF MAN and there's nothing he can do until he go back to Mandos, which is what he intended to do, oh plus slowly chocking Namo with Miriel's dirty socks.  
  
Namo sweated. He thought he heard Feanor cursing, but he figured he's delusional due to his stress overload.  
  
Feanor stopped his ravings to study his surrounding. His mind's fuzzy on his exact location, but a 7 Age imprisonment would do that to an Elf's brain, even if he's the smartest Elf in the world. He shrugged and started walking. All roads lead to Mandos, and he would beat up that worthless Vala eventually. 


	2. Chapter 2: My Fair Lady

Feariel

by Kasura

Chapter 2: My Fair Lady

Ingwion went strolling at the secluded forest outside of the white palace after his breakfast of bread and fruits. The son of High King Ingwe and the most eligible bachelor in Valinor sighed and stared at the aquamarine tinted sky forlornly. He is surrounded by the serenity this haven has to offer, but his heart is sorrowful despite the soothing balm of the tranquility. His people, the Vanyar, admire Ingwion for his gentle temperament and his noble mien before his legendary well-formed body and face, but loneliness crept into his being like an unwanted infestation after so many hollow praises from his subjects. Maidens shied their eyes before him, afraid to soil the golden god with their base glances. They were either too awestruck by his beauty to converse with him or too timid by his station to approach him. Yet a person can only be isolated so much before the placid façade crumbled, and left barren, frozen on the pedestal he was forced to stand.

Ingwion's golden tresses spilled down to his elegant waist, the color of golden honey. He leaned back against a birch to begin a song. He longed for a companion to share his joys and sorrows, to love him as a person not as the son of a king, but alas fate has decreed otherwise, for his heart has not beaten fast in the presence of any maiden in the Blessed Realm. Ingwion's song slowly transmuted itself into a sorrowful melody, lamenting his doom.

In the middle of his aria, his elven ears pick up rustling sounds in the bushes behind the tree and stopped. He turned his face to greet the intruder and lo a most glorious maiden revealed herself to him, although her face was flushed from anger. She muttered to herself, completely oblivious to her surroundings and to him, but Ingwion could see her lovely snowy face shrouded by a waterfall of gleaming raven mane, the hue of deepest night. Her white robes billowed softly in the forest breeze, revealing an elegant yet willowing figure.

She continued in her ignorance of Ingwion, and almost walked straight into him. She stopped, raised her face to look at him, and behold, Ingwion saw the most striking pair of light gray eyes, fiercely of life and sparkling with intelligence. Looking into these two pools, Ingwion hopelessly sank into them, his ear caught a drift of her low muttering, which sounded suspiciously like 'a spineless Valar loving Vanya."

Ingwion's chest heaved; he has fallen deeply in love. There is a maiden worthy of his admiration within his grasp. She wore no adornment, but her beauty is her greatest ornament, mere bauble would detract the purity of her elegance form. The maiden shot him an imperious look and marched away.

The thought of her vanishing from his eyesight forever devastated the Golden prince. Ingwion could not withhold himself; he strode behind herself, as gently as he could but firmly grasped her arm to prevent her from leaving. The maiden whipped around, her nose almost touching the prince's, in a supremely annoyed voice she exclaimed:

"Unhand me, you brainless blonde. You're hindering me from my utmost important mission! Hmph, correction, my second most important mission after collecting my stolen Silmarils…"

The harshness of her tone almost crushed Ingwion, nevertheless, the son of Ingwe mustered his courage and graced the lady with his most dazzling smile, hoping to win her over.

"Sincere apologies from the deepest crevice of my heart, lovely maiden. I was stricken by your maia like radiant beauty, like a ray of light blazing in my eyes, that I must professed my admiration to you. I am Ingwion, the son of Ingwe. If I may be so bold, may I ask a boon of you to accompany me for a short walk around this lovely forest? " He bowed to her courtly, hoping her rosy lips will give him the answer he dearly sought.

Instead the maiden raised her eyebrows to scrutinize him, while an tsk, tsk sound was coming from her delectable mouth. "Well, well, Ingwion, long time no see. Age has not grace you with wisdom I see, you are still as idiotic as the boy who traipsed in his Laurelin undie in his father's court duped to look for treasures." She grinned nastily.

Ingwion blushed, that was his most humiliating moment. He could remember running into a roomful of noble elves in the middle of a courtly function after a dare with that…that.. wait a minute, how would she know about this event? He was duped by that evil Spirit of Fire, who was visiting Ingwe's court with his father when Finwe was courting Indis, and left to his own device mostly, he suggested Ingwion to search for invisible treasure that only appears when he pranced in his Laurelin undie. With his persuasive words and taunting, Feanor was able to convince Ingwion to do his stunt minus the details that Ingwe was holding an impromptu festival meeting that day.

Ingwion could remember the dumb stares and a few giggles escaped from matrons present, and his father's embarrassment at his son's antics. Later he was ordered to apologize for interrupting the meeting and indecent exposure, and sent to his room without desserts while Feanor laughed at his humiliation in his eyes and preening himself when Ingwe praised Finwe's well-behaved heir in contrast to his own uncouth children.

"How did you know about this?" The question inadvertently escaped his mouth. Ingwion thought she is probably related to one of the nobles there, and heard it from her relative, but did not voice this after his question. The maiden snickered, and said, " I knew because I was the instigator. You were so trusting when you're young. It was so easy to trick you to get you into trouble. Must be a Vanyar trait. Hmm."

Ingwion gaped. The instigator was Feanor, and Feanor's a male elf, therefore she couldn't be Feanor. His mind was twisting itself into tiny loops for a plausible explanation while she rolled her eyes.

:"Ingwion, it is me, Feanor, your childhood nemesis. I know your tiny brain must be exploding from processing this information, but I'm surprised you didn't recognize me. Life must be very cozy for the Vanyar. Anyway, as much as I like to chit chat all the wonderful memories we've shared, I have a Vala to threaten so I'll be on my way."

"No, please do not leave me, glorious maiden! I confessed I'm unclear as to why you've claimed yourself to be that evil, evil elf but I shall lose all hopes of happiness if you leave me." Ingwion gripped her arm again. While his mind was tumbling from this revelation, he adamantly believed the poor maiden was suffering from delusions resulted perhaps from strange mushrooms in the forest. Elves who have unwittingly ingested some species of pretty mushrooms under the trees were known to behave strangely. The cure, Ingwion thought, was the love he has for the maiden. He will take her to his palace, and patiently awaited her recovery to her sanity in the midst of floral and crystal fountain. The he shall woo her with his poetry of her star like beauty. Their children will be delightful, he hoped, they would have his blue eyes and her raven hair.

He knew the ways to make maidens melt in his arms; he saw his lords practiced these moves on their beloved frequently. He pulled the fiercely protesting maiden closer, his lips edging to her pale coral lips, and ready to sample them when his lower region was splitting with pain. Darkness clouded his eyes, and he collapsed to the ground in pain, heaving, barely seeing the triumphant swing of her chin towards the path leading to the forest outlet.

Before she vanished from his sight, she dropped him a warning, "Next time, it's not your jewels but your head, if you try this again." Too painful to speak, Ingwion watched her leave helplessly. Her rejection does not deter him from pursuing her to be his spouse. He was now more determined. As soon as he recovered from his pain, he walked back to the palace with a purpose. He searched the palace for his father, and found him in the study. He entered the study after knocking on the door, and immediate went to his father's side. Ingwe was alarmed at first by his son's affected appearance. Ingwion was known for his cool, collected composure. The sight of his face flustered was a cause for concern.

Ingwe started to probe his son gently, " My dear son, is anything wrong? You looked…" and was interrupted rudely by his son, which was a first.

"My lord father, I have found the most wonderful maiden to be my companion!" Ingwion exclaimed excitedly. His chest was heaving from proclamation. Ingwe was taken back, that was certainly not expected, and then was awash with joy all over. He was glad his son found a maiden at last. He started to mentally name his future grandchildren when his son uttered helplessly, "but I do not know her name." Ingwe smiled at his son encouragingly, "We will find out who she is, my son. We will search all Valinor for your love." Ingwion nodded in agreement, his words echoing " Yes, I shall search all Valinor for her."

Feanor had the worse luck after his re-embodiment. He mentally cursed that Vanyar imbecile after the kissing fiasco. Is Ingwion blind? He always suspected these blondies are deficient somewhere, always singing happy songs and smiling at each other, now their beloved prince has proving him right. They all have lost their sanity right after the Awakening. How can Ingwion not recognize him?

Feanor has conveniently forgotten his new body is very feminine, and blessed with all bodily parts that an elven maiden would pray diligently for. His feminine allurement has captivated Ingwe's son, but was lost on him as he refused to recognize his new identify, and expect every elf to see him as the Spirit of Fire, a Male Elf.

Feanor could not let this incident go. He already blamed Namo for it. The Vala shall suffer the most excruciating pain he can conjure, he vowed. Namo shall curse his own existence after Feanor's done with him. With thoughts of revenge in his mind, and Namo's pitiful screams of forgiveness, Feanor realized he has walked for hours without a break. His body was tired from the physical exertions, and hungry. The forest he was in now was slightly darker than before, with green canopies of leaves overlapping, allowing sunlight to spilled through the holes between leaves. The sun was waning in the afternoon, turning the forest into a cool, shady area for resting. Feanor decided to rest for a while, then forage for food. He lowered himself to the soft grassy forest floor, in comfortable position. Sleep soon beckoned him. He fought his heavy eyelids, but gave in to the futile resistance. Before he lose himself to Irmo's dreams, he wondered what absurdities await him on the road to Mandos. 


	3. Chapter 3: Belle of Aqualonde

Feariel

by Kasura

Disclaimer - nothing belongs to me. please take Earwion if you really want to...

Chapter 3: Belle of Aqualonde

"What is this, a helpless maiden stranded in the forest? Never fear, oh beauteous maid, the Prince of princes shall rescue you from damp bed and thieves!"

Since when had thieves ever roamed in Valinor? Feanor's mind instantly stirred to dispute the words, his eyes regaining awareness after so rudely awaken by the unknown elf's booming voice.

_A sock, I need a sock to stuff his loud mouth_, Feanor thought dourly, while his head was splitting from the premature awakening. He grudgingly readied himself to yell the meanest insults to the knave when he was swept off the forest bed by two strong arms and threw on to a white horse's rump. Owww, his splitting head was now bouncing on the horse's tough hide.

"Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii. where are you taking me, you bandit? You are the only thief in this forest! Put me down this instant." Feanor's irritated shrieking was followed by loud chuckles from his abductor. This foul elf had the nerve to cheerfully announce he's taking him to the safety of his home.

A reckless galloping out of the forest had sent Feanor back to Lorien's domain when his still languid body was teetering on the horse rump. When he regained consciousness hours later, he found he was comfortably buried in a white fluffy feather bed. He welcomed this lost comfort by burying deeper into the bed, luxuriating in the feeling of fine silk caressing his legs. Unfortunately his re-acquaintance with luxury was interrupted by an elf barging into the room.

The elf gave him a dashing bow, and smiled his most charming smile, the one with the lips pushed aside wide enough to showcase his perfect sparkling white rows of teeth. At first Feanor was blinded by the sparkles dancing around the teeth, and then he scrutinized the elf, ignoring the hopeful or leering eyes (depending on who's perspective) that were fixated on his, erhm, well-endowed rack.

"I see my lady must be curious who her rescuer is, and I am gland to serve a maid so fair by disclosing my identity. I am the Prince of princes and the eldest son of Olwe, Earwion." Earwion gave another bow and smiled more.

Oh yes, that's Earwion. Feanor's heart plummeted. Of all the places in Valinor, he's lucky to wind up in Aqualonde. He stored a mental note in his brain to increase Namo's suffering a notch for this.

Earwion appeared to buff up his previous shrimpy figure, now flexing his biceps and flaunting a six pack at him. Feanor wasn't impressed. Feanor recalled how easily Maedhros had swatted Earwion off like a fly with his backhand during the battle for the ships, causing the puny elf to tumble back and knock him out of the war by hitting his head against a column. That must be the catalyst in his desire to buff up, Feanor surmised. He and cousin Ecthelion, from his mother's side, used to pelt Earwion with water balls and locked him in the broom closet listening to his terrified screams. After they tortured Earwion enough and let him out of the closet, instead of exacting retribution by fisting them, Earwion ran to Olwe crying his eyes out. These were the good times. He missed cousin Ecthelion, who did Noldor worthy feats like smiting Feanor's murderer to pieces, even though he lost his life in the process and ended up in Mandos. When Feanor asked Ecthelion after their tearful reunion in the Timeless Hall why he didn't join Feanor's group of rebels, Ecthelion shrugged and replied, "Cause my dad had a kick for Fingolfin's steadfastness, you know what I mean, (wink, wink) so he coerced his entire household to join Fingolfin's rebels. Dad has a thing for sheep too" On a side note, Ecthelion's dad croaked in Gondolin after choking on a piece of lemon leaving his heir regretting missing all the fun while cooped up in the Hidden Kingdom.

While Feanor was reminiscing he and Ecthelion's wicked ways, Earwion had plopped down on the bed and were invading his personal space. He felt hot breaths on his face and turned to face Earwion warily. The Telerin prince was busy spewing poetry to his face now.

"Roses are red and violets are blue.

Thy lips are like roses, sweet and true.

Thy eyes are like stars, bright and keen.

Oh enchant me with thy voice, lovely one,

To thee I embrace with my golden heart."

Assuming the maiden was swooning under the power of poetry, Earwion seized the moment, and tried to kiss those luscious red lips. Feanor blocked the advancing lips with his hand just in time, and pushed Earwion's face aside forcefully. He spied a book hanging out of Earwion's trouser pocket and grabbed it.

The title of the book was "Guide to Artful Wooing Your Love by Nelyafinwe Maitimo, Son of Feanaro", and a thick black line was crossed over Nelyafinwe Maitimo. "No wonder this lame piece of rubbish sounds familiar", Feanor almost exclaimed. Earwion had gotten it from Maedhros' parody of courtship rules Apparently Earwion had thought the examples in the book are constructive advices to initiating and building a successful relationship, but in actuality he should have done the opposites, which enlightened Feanor to why Earwion was still a bachelor after thousands of years. The Telerin prince was so dim in social skills that he had to read a book to learn how to woo a maiden.

Tossing the book to Earwion's face, Feanor sneered at the prince. "Only a loser will try to read a book to pick up a maiden. Maitimo never swings that way. Go to him for advice if you want to woo an elf lad." Unfortunately for Feanor, Earwion was entranced by every golden word spilled from the lips of this bewitching enchantress so he was not listening to the content. He thought her sneer was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen in his long lifespan.

Feanor didn't expect Earwion to retort back with a witty remark or anything at all, except for a few groans of 'Um'. He got off the bed, shot some regretful glances to it, and smoothed his dress before the door. "Thank you for your hospitality, Prince Earwion. I have to take leave of you now and continue my, uhm, utmost important quest." Feanor speedily escape to the door. Nevertheless, tenacity is Earwion's epesse. He grabbed on tight to the maiden's delicate shoulder to prevent her from leaving his sweaty grasp.

"O Let me go, you dimwitted beachcomber!" Feanor struggled pathetically to free himself from Earwion's biceps – since when did Earwion get a strong grip like that?

While Feanor was struggling to free himself, Earwion was desperately entreating him to stay with a hopeful enticement. He begged, "My lady, how can I let you leave without a grand tour of the fabulous Aqualonde? Its white sandy beaches are famed in the blessed realm for their beauty and softness, I promise you will not want to leave after a light stroll through the sands listening to the calming waves……"

"Look, I don't want a tour of your pathetic city….I have seen enough during the Tree era to know burning it to the ground will not deprive the Quendi!" Sadly Feanor's loud protests fell on deaf ear. Whether he enjoys it or not, Earwion was bent on giving him a retour of the Telerin capital under the pretense of getting to know him better or knowing his female self better. Whatever. Feanor knew this is a conspiracy against him, possibly organized by Namo after knowing Feanor is plotting revenge for his joke. He always known everyone conspires against him, and it is himself against the whole world.

But now Feanor wished the world will give his a brief respite now, and then resume the vendetta against him tomorrow or after he recovered from Earwion's Aqualonde one-day personal tour. After walking past by countless generic water fountains with giant fish fountainheads and listening to Earwion droning on the so wonderful historical Telerin landmarks which spanned over 2,000 shell pads that he and his dreadful relatives used to occupy or dance or sleep in sometimes 5000 years ago – and in between that lengthy discourse Earwion salivated at his décolleté - Feanor felt this is the real punishment Valar sentenced him to for committing the First Kinslaying. The jailing in Mandos was just the appetizer.

He felt the grime of this Telerin prince's imaginary drool couldn't even be washed clean by Uinen's tears. Urgh.

So proud of the depth of his knowledge, Earwion pressed him on to view several ancient white columns, and started gushing on Telerin ingenuity in inventing a different type of columns, which led to Feanor blanking out his mind and roving his lovely almond eyes around, causing several excited stirs among nearby Teleri. He discovered they had reached the central square of Aqualonde, where a huge white plaque dominated the scenery.

The square was wide enough for thousands or so elves to milling about. The ground was paved in jeweled mosaics in the patterns of sea creatures like dolphins, whales, marlins swimming around the Swan ships. There were benches shaped like shells at the edge of the square, which formed a circle around it. The center plaque itself is made of a sheet of pure alabaster with no decoration. Feanor noted flowers were strewn at the base of the plaque haphazardly.

Detecting the lady's attention went somewhere, Earwion followed Feanor's gaze to the plaque. He led Feanor to plaque. The Telerin prince's countenance changed from lovesick to solemn. He bowed his silvery head before the plaque for a few seconds, when he raised his head, his silvery eyes turned watery.

"Ah, my lady, you now stand before the most grievous chapter of the Telerin history. For this is where Feanor stood with his followers demanding my esteemed father to aid him in his rebellion against the Valar. This is where Telerin blood was shed for our precious ships. We have erected this memorial plaque to commemorate the massacre, and to teach the value of peace to our children and friends. I am sorry my lady that I have caused you grief by reminding you of that atrocious event occurred in the long past, for I know you have a gentle heart which will be saddened by the horrifying act."

Indeed Feanor was silenced by Earwion's emotional outpouring, his stony heart feeling a facsimile of the sorrow exuding from Olwe's heir, and there's heaviness in his chest in understanding the ramification of the kinslaying. This is the first time he came face to face with his victim in corporeal form, therefore the gravity of his crime was hitting him right in the face.

But then the reflective mode was shattered by a shrill of sharp sounds from afar. This jogged Feanor from self-reproaching to passing the blame to the Teleri for causing the kinslaying. He stubbornly thought if they were being good friends and agreed to aid him in his quest to recover his Silmarils then nothing would happen. Apparently the shrilling sounds destroyed the contemplative mood for Earwion as well. He waved toward the harbor excitedly.

"Oh most gracious maiden, you are in for a treat today!" Earwion rubbed his hands gleefully " the boys decided to practice. That shrilling was their signal to gather! Come! Come! You shall not pass this wonder of Aqualonde." With Earwion dashing towards the harbor dragging him, Feanor rolled his eyes and prayed for whatever travesties these silver haired pansies threw out end quick so he can move on toward his goal – that is to get his beautiful manly body back plus giving Namo a good kick.

Quickly they arrived at the harbor to see few dozen Teleri in shiny armors climbing on to two battle ships in great anticipation. Earwion yelled out a few encouraging words to his fellow Teleri, and looking very much wanting a piece of the action. Being an excellent observer, Feanor decided to influence his hapless suitor to play with the boys so he can make a hasty exit out of this dismal city. But Earwion had to gallantly proclaim he would keep the lady company, thus leaving glory to his subjects.

While Feanor was debating whether he should stoop to using his newly acquired feminine wiles to get the infatuated prince to leave, meaning batting his mile long eyelashes to coyly hinting he would like to see Earwion in manly actions, the Teler decided to enlighten the fair lady on what the excitement is about. From Earwion's prattling, Feanor was able to gather that the Teleri actually installed a military unit after their shameful defeat by Feanor's army, which is dubbed Union of Telerin Harpoon Defense, rather pompously, where the military strength of the unit is marine prowess. But what puzzled Feanor was how in the world would excellence in harpoon-throwing skills protect the Teleri from inland assault? Sure the Teleri can kill a few whales with their so called soldiers but against a trained Noldorin cavalry they flopped like shrimps out of water.

So today is the big day when the Union of Telerin Harpoon Defense drilled, and Feanor had the pleasure of seeing these silver fishermen harpooning each other, pretending there are giant squids menacing around. Amidst the barking of commands, curses and bellowing, the Teleri managed to almost maneuver the mock ship battle without killing anyone, except some elves got tangled up with the harpoons. What a poor lot…..Feanor's face was twitching from holding his laughs. Normally he would let out his sarcastic laughs and derision at such idiotic displays but he did not want Earwion to think he's entertained and therefore starting to get ideas. Feanor disciplined himself to show bored indifference.

On the deck of one of ships engaged in the mock battle, Elwe stretched himself after so much harpoon throwing. His brother had recommended a practice session to him after he complained of being lazy and gaining weight. The exercise invigorated him, and he relished several flashbacks to his orc killing days that had occurred during the mock battle. Those were the good old days, he mused. As Elwe patted his fellow shipmates in good spirits, his eyes espied a maiden standing next to his nephew, where the firstborn son of Olwe was fixating his adoring eyes to like a puppy to his favorite bone. The maiden has luxurious silky hair, the color of Middle Earth's midnights, trailing down gracefully to her slender white ankles. Her face was perfectly oval, with delicate dark eyebrows, luminous almond eyes framed by thick, jet colored lashes, and a pouting sensual mouth. Struck by her magnificence, Elwe could not contain himself. He jumped off the ship, ran towards her and hugged the maiden. She struggled fiercely.

"Luthien! Luthien! Has Eru mercifully restored my daughter to her grieving parents?" Elwe wept on her shoulder, interpreting the shaking of her body to be the joy of seeing her father.

Legolas Thranduillion saw the tearful reunion from the battle ship. He was assigned to Elwe's team and was at first confounded by Elwe jumping off the ship urgently. His eyes followed Elwe and saw Earwion's love interest, he mournfully sighed. Legolas was smitten by the maiden's glorious beauty at first sight. Truly only a great lord like Earwion deserves the bewitching star rather than a simple woodland prince, an empty title since Eryn Lasgalen faded in Arda like the memory of Eldar. Legolas followed Elwe's suit, desperately hoping the proximity of the maiden's radiance could sooth his aching heart. If he is not worthy enough to be her husband, the most envied elf in the world, then at least he hope he is worthy enough to be her friend. Legolas is content with friendship as long as he is near her to hear her silvery laughter to see her danced gaily on the glades to admire her starry eyes that hold all the beauty in the world. Legolas sighed when he finally came up to the exquisite maiden.

Feanor had enough! He's molested…molested by a senile elf claiming he's his father. Feanor has a father, and his name is Finwe, most certainly not this crazy silvered haired Teler. Oh he tried breaking from the elf's suffocating embrace, but only resulted in being hold tighter. He heard Earwion gasped, "So this is my cousin Luthien? How is this possible? I cannot believe this is true. I shall suffer everlasting unrequited love for according to the laws of the Eldar I cannot marry my cousin. O woe is me, O depair…."

"Who is this Luthien? I'm not Luthien and You. Are. Not. My. Father." Screamed Feanor.

Elwe wept copiously over Feanor's angry protests. "Ah my own daughter rejecting me. There is no sorrow greater than this." He's crushed.

To Feanor's horror, he saw another blond elf with braided hair approaching him with love stricken looks on his face. The sap introduced himself as Legolas Greenleaf and blathered about how moved he was by the father daughter reunion and so on. While these three elves were squabbling over him, Feanor shameful resorted to leveraging feminine devices to break away this outrageous situation.

With a mellifluous exclamation, he dramatically fainted in Elwe's arms.

A distraught Elwe carried him to the nearest room with bed while he pretended to be unconscious. Earwion and Legolas scrambled around to find herbs or objects that will help the fainting maiden recover from unconsciousness. Fearful their ruckus will induce more stress on his poor "daughter"'s fragile nerves, Elwe shoot them out of the room, and decided to depart too to let her rest.

Feanor lay very still in the bed until he couldn't hear these three elves' footsteps anymore. He realized this is his chance to flee this wretched city and the lunatic elves inhabited here! Quickly he rose from the bed, stealthily moved to the door to reassure no one was loitering outside the room to hinder his flight to freedom.

After dashing out of the room, and made a quick run out of the door, Feanor had to hide his incredible beauty by covering himself with a makeshift shawl lest some male elves got smitten by one look and replicating Earwion's abduction. Truly he felt so pathetic! He never had to resort to hide and run tactic. Dejected, he felt great sympathies for his silmarils because now he understood what being pawed by everyone feels like.

With these thoughts churning in his mind, Feanor realized he had reached the outskirts of Aqualonde, where an expansive forest loomed ahead of him. Feeling quite exhausted after this day's misfortune, he decided to rest in the heart of the forest for a night, but not before he covered himself with the shawl for noted safety reasons.

Before he drifted off to Lorien's domain, Feanor cursed Namo thrice for authoring his plight. 


End file.
